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Wednesday, April 25, 2018

I spent the weekend in Independence
with my Business Women of Missouri sisters. This year, I had the pleasure of
taking the “official” photos for the group. I’ve taken the “unofficial” photos
for several years. As usual, I got a little carried away and took more than
five hundred photos. Well, now, that makes the selection process a little bit
harder.

The most fun was taking group photos
in front of the fireplace. My goal was to get the best and most flattering
photos possible, so I borrowed a stepladder from the hotel. It was a little wobbly,
but in true sisterly fashion, my friend Ann offered to steady the ladder. I
knew the photo shoot was successful when one woman commented that I made the
photo shoot “fun.” I enjoyed taking the photos and didn’t want to stress out this
time because they were counting on me.

I’ve always enjoyed taking photos
even when I had to send the film off to have it developed. I can remember how
looking at the photos made me feel. Sometimes I was disappointed that the photo
fell short of my expectations, and other times I took a little too much pride
in how well I’d captured a moment.

My professional photographer friend
Randy says good photography is about having an eye for the best shot, but
mostly it’s about timing. Since the majority of my photos are sunsets, I’ve
learned that timing is crucial. A little too soon and the sky isn’t colorful. A
little too late and the sky turns to a shade of drab grey.

Yes, it is possible to take a
beautiful photo of some not so beautiful moments, or maybe blurry photos of a
peaceful, happy moment. Photos capture the stillness of a moment and can bring
back the emotions we felt inside at that exact time. Smiles may hide a troubled
heart, and others might look at the same photo and misunderstand the image.

Our memories are much like photos or
short movie clips. From a distance, the past may be out of focus, and open to interpretation.
How many times have you done something that mortified you, but years later that
became one of the funny stories you tell? Yeah, me too!

On the flipside, we mull the could
have, should haves. That would be those times we wronged another or made a
mistake that had horrible consequences. To sin means to fall short of the mark,
and we’ve all sinned. Even when others forgive us, we may never forgive
ourselves.

The hardest thing I ever did in my
life was to be a caregiver. I’d like to say that I was perfect in my role, but
I wasn’t. In the still of the night, I try to convince myself that I did more
things right than I did wrong, but why do the wrongs weigh so much heavier on
my heart? It is easier for me to tell another caregiver to be forgiving of his
or her mistakes than to heed my own advice.

We are only human. As much as we
might admire the abilities of a superhero, they are fictional characters and we
are not. We are the stars of our own reality show—and our own worst critic.

Nobody’s life is picture perfect,
although we may look that way in photos. We each have faults, regrets, and
imperfections too numerous to mention. Living doesn’t have the flat smooth
surface of a photo. Living has depth, rough patches, pitfalls, and chasms. Life
is messy, but it does have warmth, love, and a human touch that cannot be found
in the most perfect photo.

Saturday, April 7, 2018

This morning I was
getting ready to take the dog out and pondered what to wear during this cold
snap. My eyes lit on an old flannel shirt. Yes, this was a flannel shirt kind
of day.

As I pulled on the
shirt, I thought about the history of this shirt. The frayed collar and the ripped shirttail were indications of a well-worn shirt. That’s not too odd considering the shirt had aged a quarter of a century, or more.

Jim and I both wore
his flannel shirts on cool spring days when we were building our house. In
fact, I believe the tear in this shirt came from catching the shirttail on a
nail.

On a day like
today, Jim might have put on a flannel shirt, grabbed up his fishing pole, and
headed to the lake. The fish always tasted better when the water was cold.

Fishing brought Jim
a lot of enjoyment. I remember one time after he first started showing signs of
dementia, he decided to go to Truman to fish. I went off to work, happy that he
was going to enjoy the day.

I wrote about that day in my journal, and here is an excerpt from Indelible:

My co-worker Tammy thought I was out of the office, but when she
called my cell phone, Jim answered.

She came into my office. “I think there’s something wrong
with him,” she said. “He just didn’t sound right.” Jim’s plans for the day had
been a trip to Truman Dam to fish.

I called his cell phone. “Where are you,” I asked him.

“Right here,” he said.

“Can you tell me where you are? What highway are you on?”

“I’m on I-70,” he said, “and I have a friend with me.” I-70
was the opposite direction from Truman.

“What are you doing on I-70?” I asked.

“I’m taking my friend to Higginsville,” he said.

“Who is your friend?”

“I don’t know his name. He needed a ride home.”

Jim was easily distracted and I was afraid to keep him
talking while he was driving on the Interstate. I told him to call me as soon
as he got home. Jim’s assurance that he knew this guy didn’t mean anything. If
someone started a conversation with him, Jim thought that meant he knew the person.

Why I kept this
flannel shirt out of all Jim’s shirts is a mystery. Apparently, when I sorted
through his clothing to donate to Open Door, I didn’t consider this shirt worthy of charity.

I hadn’t worn the shirt in
a long time and my dog was curious. She sniffed the sleeves as I fastened her
leash to the harness. I thought maybe the shirt smelled funny from being in a
drawer, but it smelled fine to me. It smelled of
memories and younger days. If I used my imagination, it might have smelled of
campfires and Colorado mornings.

So today, I
am wrapped up in memories of flannel shirt days, wearing a shirt that should
have been tossed in the ragbag twenty years ago. Minimalists warn us about this
kind of hoarding.

I have a new ladies’
flannel shirt that isn’t threadbare or torn. So wouldn’t the logical thing be
to toss this shirt? When I take it off tonight, it will be decision time. Do I
throw it away or put it in the laundry? Trash or treasure? My mind says trash,
but my heart says treasure. When in doubt, I follow my heart.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Well, Mother Nature
pulled quite an April Fools’ joke on us. Here we were all celebrating spring when
the weather did a complete about face.

I wanted to wear a
dress to Easter services and even tried to psych myself up for a pedicure in
case I decided to wear my sandals. Instead, I wore my boots and my winter coat.
Sunday dawned with below freezing temperatures with wind chills thrown in for
good measure.

That’s what happens
when Easter Sunday falls on April Fools Day. Ma Nature thinks she’s a jokester.
Just to make a point, we had that good old thunder snow, wintery mixture
falling all over the place during the afternoon.

For some reason, Sunday
seemed so long that I kind of thought we’d moved right into Tuesday. As I
pulled myself out of a sound sleep Monday morning, I couldn’t seem to lift my
body out of bed. I propped myself up on pillows, glanced at my cell phone, and
then pulled the blanket up over me and
thought about the month ahead.

April has always
been the month of taxes, conferences, and enjoying the signs of nature’s
rejuvenation. It is also a month that catches me off guard at one time or
another. Today was that day. I lay in bed thinking about the memories I can’t
let go.

April 5, 1970, was
the day Jim came home from Vietnam. We celebrated his “homecoming” by making it
a special day for him. I know one year we forgot our wedding anniversary, but
we never forgot his homecoming. It was a happy day when he came back to the
“world.” Happy days make sad memories. Homecoming day never passes that I don’t
think of him.

April 18, 2005, he left the
world for a better place.
That didn’t make it any easier for the people who loved him. Just thinking
about that day, makes my heart hurt.

If I’m going to
make it through April without letting it get me down, I’m going to have to
accentuate the positive. I know sunshine will eventually chase away the gloomy
skies and cold weather. Mother Nature will get back on her meds and show us
some sunshine, blue skies, and cotton-candy clouds. Of course, we might have a
few random thunderstorms and tornadoes thrown in the mix for excitement.

It is
springtime—time for daffodils, tulips, irises, and lilacs to bloom. The birds
will be tweet-tweedle-tweeting every morning.

In the meantime, I’d really
like to take the dog out without bundling up like it’s a cold January day. Hey, Mother
Nature, I’m calling you out. This is April 2and the weather is
still miserable. I remember a rhyme from school when someone played a joke a
day late. “April Fools is already past, and you’re the biggest fool at
last!”It’s not nice when Mother Nature
acts like a fool.

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